Friday, April 3, 2009

we're all bastards

broke in the industry/
bent and burned by it's machine/
so I ask, silence or sirens?/

colorless and shrinkwrapped/
Misplaced to confuse/
life faded to the backseat/
a new dispassion, one more excuse/

Bought by nods/
by request, felt so crossed/
So I ask, sterile or stoic?/

Cage me, I'll end this/
stay warm and human/
before the floor is covered in what makes you real/

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